Learning to Compose
Photographs are created in an instant, but some images grab our attention and hold on to it. There may be a personal reason for that: the image may depict a place, a moment, or a person we care about. We may be attracted to the quality of the light. Or there may be a structural reason. Look at enough photographs and you will find some that seem remarkably ordered, as if the photographer were able to re-shape the world in a way that makes its image seem clearer, more profound and more fascinating than we are used to seeing it.
The image feels right. It is coherent. There is an underlying geometry and sense of proportion, and sometimes, even grace. Elements align, patterns appear and a beauty exists that is independent of the subject itself. When we have this kind of response to a photograph that is taken in the hustle and bustle of a city street or any moment that comes and goes, a series of questions arise. In that moment of taking the picture, did the photographer see all of those visual relationships? Or was it a matter of luck and numbers, of shooting a lot of pictures just to get that one? When beginning photographers ask these kinds of questions, I think what is unasked is: can I do this too?
Photographic composition is the visual organization of elements within the boundaries of the image. I’m often asked for a book recommendation by students looking to improve their ability to compose, and unfortunately, I haven’t come across that book. There are books about the principles of design: balance, harmony, shape, line quality, positive and negative space, etc., but to my knowledge, there are none directed specifically to photographers. And of the photography books I’ve seen that have a chapter on composition, I think that at best these are an introduction, but usually the material is too basic to be sufficient, and the examples themselves tend not to be particularly interesting as photographs.
What is the best way to learn about composition? Look at the work of the best photographers (or painters, for that matter) and pay attention to how you see what you see. In other words, note what you look at first when you view the image, then what you see second and third, and so forth. How does your eye move through the image? Begin to list all the ways the shapes and lines within the image relate to each other. Do this every time you look at a photograph, with emphasis on the best images, and your compositional skills will grow stronger.
This process of visual analysis, if it is repeated often enough, will help to internalize ideas about structure. As you look at and analyze more images, and as you apply what you have observed to your shooting, in time, your ability to order will become intuitive. In photography, quick decision-making can be especially important. Getting the shot may require the most rapid of reactions, and there may be only one opportunity. You may have limited access to your subject. Or, even if you are working in the controlled environment of a studio, you might be renting the studio or your equipment, incurring expenses for a model and staff, and therefore want to use your time well.
Learning to compose is not a matter of learning and then applying a set of rules. At some point, you might have heard about the “rule of thirds,” or were told never to put the subject in the center of the frame. Forget about that, or any other formulaic approach to organizing an image – it just isn’t a useful way to think about structure. Composition is contextual. What works in one picture may not work for another.
Developing your compositional skills is analogous to developing a sensibility. The way you compose is an extension of how you see and what you want to express. The way you compose should cohere with all the other decisions you are making: where to stand, when to press the shutter, what to shoot, and even what aperture and focal length lens to use. So think not about learning rules of composition, but instead, understanding the elements of visual grammar. In time, you will discover your own way to use those elements. You will gravitate to certain ideas and not others, recognizing the type of structure that facilitates your expression.
How to Begin: Book Recommendations
In order to make interesting photographs, two things are necessary. The first is that you need to have a point of view: observations that are out of the ordinary, an identification of a noteworthy subject or an insightful engagement with your subject. The second is that you need to be able to express what you observe in a visual form. Often I hear photographers who are just starting out explain with words what they should be showing in their pictures. This indicates that they have yet to master how photographs communicate.
All images speak through light, color and the arrangement of forms, and photographs are no exception. A painter's problem is to create meaning and order starting with a blank canvas. Photographers generally face a different kind of problem. We need to find meaning and order within a world which already exists.
If you want to better understand how to communicate through your photographs, I suggest that you begin by reading and internalizing the ideas in a book by John Szarkowski, The Photographer’s Eye. Szarkowski’s thesis is that every form of expression has its own set of problems to be solved in order to communicate effectively through that medium.
For the photographer – where do I stand? when do I press the shutter? how do I arrange the subject within the viewfinder? – are questions answered every time a photograph is taken. These answers form a grammar of photography. As we answer with greater specificity, our images say more. A photograph tells a story because the photographer stood here rather than there, pressed the shutter at this particular moment, or focused on the telling detail which symbolizes what cannot be shown within the frame.
Second, read Stephen Shore’s The Nature of Photographs. The Nature of Photographs identifies some of the same problems-to-be-solved as The Photographer’s Eye. Shore’s approach emphasizes the viewer’s interaction with the photograph after it is made while Szarkowski stresses the photographer’s decisions in making the image. Of course, one approach feeds off the other. One of Shore's key points is that the time we spend looking at photographs – becoming aware of what we notice and experience while looking – eventually effects what we see and how we shoot.
Photographs reproduce a three dimensional world in a two dimensional form. The transformation of space is an often overlooked aspect of the grammar of photography. In The Nature of Photographs, Shore gives a very nuanced description about how space in a photograph is perceived. Through the examples in The Nature of Photographs, you will begin to see how he sees, and that very likely will change what you see when you look at your own photographs.
Shore's style of writing is elegant but sparse, often pointing the reader in a direction and then offering a series of images to expand upon the idea rather than offering a verbal explanation. Like The Photographer's Eye, The Nature of Photographs is the type of book that bears reading more than once to fully absorb its contents.
In terms of continuing one's education as a photographer beyond learning technique, one needs to learn to see within a photographic framework. In developing our personal point of view, it helps to first be aware of the problems and possibilities as outlined by others. Eventually, we all come to see in our own way. Engagement with the ideas in Photographer's Eye and The Nature of Photographs is a good first step towards that goal.
What Not to Do
I sometimes get questions about Michael Freeman’s The Photographer’s Eye, not to be confused with the book by John Szarkowski mentioned above. Freeman’s book claims to be the first book to address composition and design for digital photographers. I’m not sure why the adjective “digital” is important, as the elements of composition have nothing to do with the type of camera one is using. Freeman’s book does give an overview of compositional motifs, and it is useful in that regard. The problem with the book is in how those ideas are explained and illustrated.
These are visual ideas we’re talking about and Freeman’s book is unnecessarily wordy. Compounding that are the visual examples themselves. Often, the images chosen are not successful or clear applications of the principle they are intended to explain. And, most importantly, the images by and large are not interesting as images. The photographs in Freeman’s book are competent, but generally they lack the spark of a subject approached in a new way. Nor do they convey any sense of the individuality of the photographer's vision. They often are generic and formulaic, and that just won't get you very far. What we want is to be inspired by looking.
If you have ever engaged in any kind of performance activity, such as golf or baseball, you have most likely heard something to the effect that you play the way you practice. The same applies to taking photographs. Looking at images, deliberately and thoughtfully, is a form of practice. The analysis of visual structure while looking at photographs in books, magazines, or in galleries and museums, will affect the way you see and how you compose. If you look at mediocre photographs with the intent of learning to compose, that is bound to have an unwanted effect. My advice is to stick to looking at the work of the best photographers and ignore the rest.